


Rinse and repeat

by espritneo



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Fluff, Gen, Post-Series, St. Petersburg, canon Victor nikiforov/yuuri katsuki, he needs a vacation, poor yakov, twist on groundhog day trope
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-24
Updated: 2017-01-24
Packaged: 2018-09-19 14:59:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,036
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9446558
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/espritneo/pseuds/espritneo
Summary: Victor and Yuuri are stuck repeating the same day over and over again. But we're going to talk about Yuri.(8 days Yuri Plisetsky never remembers and one that he does.)





	

**Author's Note:**

> I'm sure most know the groundhog day trope, where a character relives the day over and over again until they get it right. In the movie with Bill Murray, his character goes through stages of **denial, bargaining, anger, depression, and acceptance**. In this story, all that goes on behind the scenes as I wanted to focus on an outsider perspective: Yurio.
> 
>  
> 
> Let's join Yuri as he goes through the same day without knowing it's being repeated.
> 
> \--------------------------------------------------

1.

Yuri wakes up that morning with Kirochka’s furry butt on his face.

Not unusual.

He groans and slaps his digital alarm off. Kirochka treats him to indignant meows for having the gall to displace her.

He goes on his run, makes a light breakfast, and heads to the rink. His route takes him by a thrift shop, where a leopard-faced analog clock catches his eye.

Today, he has ice practice in the morning, ballet in the afternoon.

Victor comes to morning practice alone. It’s just about the only time they ever see him without Yūri.

Victor’s distracted today. He keeps looking around in disbelief and nattering on about plans they supposedly made to work on the walley jump entry into his triple lutz.

As if _he_ ’d be stupid enough to forget something like that. _Victor_ was the absent-minded one, not him.

Yūri arrives at 10, looking similarly harried and perplexed. He practices his choreographed step sequence.

Victor watches from the sideboards, calm for the first time all morning. He has a stern, considering look on his face, but he _glows_ and Yuri considers plugging him into the flickering flourescent panel in the locker room.

Gross.

After ballet, he has nowhere else he has to be.

He heads home.

 

2.

Yuri wakes up that morning with Kirochka’s furry butt on his face.

Not unusual.

He groans and slaps his digital alarm off. Kirochka treats him to indignant meows for having the gall to displace her.

He goes on his run, makes a light breakfast, and heads to the rink. His route takes him by a thrift shop, where a leopard-faced analog clock catches his eye.

Today, he has ice practice in the morning, ballet in the afternoon.

Practice is absolute mayhem.

“Victor!” Yuri shrieks as Victor carries him over his head in a victory lap. Victor is laughing too hard to reply, giddy and _INSANE_ , what was in their oatmeal this morning?! Yuri can’t struggle too hard, the idiot’s not being careful, he could _injure himself_.

“Ahh, Yuri,” Katsudon rescues him and has the gall to ruffle his hair affectionately. He’s not even disturbed when Yuri smacks his fingers. “Listen,” the Japanese skater turns serious. “I know you won’t remember this tomorrow, but don’t be so serious all the time. You work harder than anyone I know. It’s also important to notice when to kick back a bit.”

His smile turns mischevious. “Like right now.” He slaps Yuri on the forehead with the palm of his hand and throws himself out of the way. “Tag! You’re it!”

Victor’s on the other end of the rink. He has a death wish, teasing Georgi by juggling the man’s newest love token and keeping it out of his reach.

Georgi has murder in his eyes and his face is a really un-beautiful shade of rage.

Yuri’s torn between worry for Victor’s life and wrinkling his nose at Georgi for letting himself get _that_ worked up over a girlfriend’s tube of lipstick.

Victor, though, has no qualms letting his inner asshole out, pinching Georgi mockingly and luring the other man out onto the ice to play.

“Yurio!” Katsudon yells, waving his arms. “Don’t worry about them! He won’t remember it either!”

_What?_

Yūri blithely goes on. “Hurry up! You’re it! We can skate slower if you want!”

Yuri’s halfway across the ice before he can blink.

None of them get any practice in that morning. Victor makes them play freeze dance and of course the katsudon wins, stupid musical man with dynamic control. Yuri kills all of them at gliders, coasting an extra meter past Victor.

He blows the man a raspberry.

Georgi’s exceptionally enthusiastic when they play Protector against Victor. He nearly draws blood a few times – but that might also be leftover aggression, he does look a bit too gleeful – and Yuri has to be extra flexible to avoid getting caught in the middle while fending off Victor’s aimless attacks.

Yūri, their protected, is laughing too, too hard to be anything but a damsel in distress.

Around lunchtime, he trades his skates for his sneakers and heads to the studio, automatically ignoring the sickeningly sweet duo eating lunch on the bench. Really, sitting more on _each other_ than the furniture.

After ballet, he has nowhere else he has to be.

He heads home.

 

3.

Yuri wakes up that morning with Kirochka’s furry butt on his face.

Not unusual.

He groans and slaps his digital alarm off. Kirochka treats him to indignant meows for having the gall to displace her.

He goes on his run, makes a light breakfast, and heads to the rink. His route takes him by a thrift shop, where a leopard-faced analog clock catches his eye.

Today, he has ice practice in the morning, ballet in the afternoon.

Victor and Yūri never show up. Probably playing hooky. It’s a stretch, but he wouldn’t put it past Victor, that immature, self-centered idiot.

But he’s disappointed in katsudon.

Tch.

After ballet, he has nowhere else he has to be.

He heads home.

At 10pm, Yakov texts the team’s group chat.

 **Yakov (22:02):** Unsupervised ice time tomorrow. I’ll be at court.

 **Mira (22:03):** Court? Yakov are you okay?

**_Yakov is typing…_ **

No response.

**_Yakov is typing…_ **

**Yakov (22:05):** Victor and Katsuki are in jail for public indecence.

Yuri drops his mobile, letting it roll under the table.

_Gross._

 

4.

One morning, it occurs to Yuri that something’s a bit…. _off_. It takes him awhile to come to this realization.

Yuri wakes up that morning with Kirochka’s furry butt on his face.

Not unusual.

He groans and slaps his digital alarm off. Kirochka treats him to indignant meows for having the gall to displace her.

He goes on his run, makes a light breakfast, and heads to the rink. His route takes him by a thrift shop, where a leopard-faced analog clock catches his eye.

Today, he has ice practice in the morning, ballet in the afternoon.

Victor’s missing for the first two hours, which sends Yakov into fits.

Yuri is busy being irritated with Victor for being such an irresponsible ditzball. If only the rest of them could be Katsuki Yūris. Then maybe Victor would have a shred of consideration for their time and efforts.

When Victor finally shows up, it’s because katsudon’s dragging him in by the neck of his collar.

Things go back to normal. Except…not…

Yūri practices his choreographed step sequence while Victor watches from the sideboards.

Yuri can tell Victor’s not paying any attention. He stands there like a wooden log that’s fallen onto the median, impervious to oncoming traffic.

Around noon, they break for lunch and Yuri switches out his skates for sneakers.

Katsudon’s sitting down, opening up his lunch. Victor plops down on the other end of the bench to do the same.

Yuri pauses, eyes narrowing, before heading to ballet.

Katsudon shows up at the studio around 3pm.

“Oy, katsudon.” He calls out, making the skater stop and turn towards him. “What’s going on with you and Victor? You sick or something?”

Funny how it doesn’t occur to him they might be having a falling out.

Katsudon just gives him a grim smile. “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”

Yuri snorts. “You’re assuming I’m listening.”

“Alright,” the other Yuri says with unexpected bite. “We keep reliving today. Victor won’t stop whining about it. I’m this close to punching his face.”

Well. Shows him for caring.

“Fine,” Yuri grits out. “If you can’t take it seriously, I’m done here.”

 

5.

Yuri wakes up that morning with Kirochka’s furry butt on his face.

Not unusual.

He groans and slaps his digital alarm off. Kirochka treats him to indignant meows for having the gall to displace her.

He goes on his run, makes a light breakfast, and heads to the rink. His route takes him by a thrift shop, where a leopard-faced analog clock catches his eye.

Today, he has ice practice in the morning, ballet in the afternoon.

He gets to the rink and the lovebirds are having an enormous shouting match at one end of the hallway.

Yuri is goddamned triggered. He grits his teeth because he does not need this at 7 in the _fucking morning_.

“Oi! What the hell is wrong with you two? Is this some new kinky shit you’ve come up with? You people are in public! Keep it at home! And in your pants!”

They look….floored. Completely and utterly surprised, like they’d even forgotten where they were.

Tch, love was embarrasing.

“Yurio…” Someone says his name with the wonder of waking up. Yūri looks at Victor. “He still thinks we’re - ”

Victor’s rubbing his temples, looking frustrated. “Of course. Of course he does,” Victor whispers. The old man looks twice his age, somehow both weighed down and unmoored. “This hasn’t happened for him.”

He takes a large stride and envelops Yuri in a desperate embrace.

“What - What the fuck, man!” Yuri screeches, shoving and aiming for Victor’s instep. Victor stubbornly hangs on.

The two disappear after that and Yuri doesn’t see them for the rest of the day.

 

6.

Yuri wakes up that morning with Kirochka’s furry butt on his face.

Not unusual.

He groans and slaps his digital alarm off. Kirochka treats him to indignant meows for having the gall to displace her.

He goes on his run, makes a light breakfast, and heads to the rink. He’s almost by this gaudy little thrift shop when he hears katsudon’s voice.

“Oi! Yurio!”

He seriously contemplates turning a deaf ear.

“Yurio!” Shit. He’s way closer now. Yuri stops and waits for him to catch up.

“What?” He sighs. What the hell is he even doing here? Their apartment was on the other side of the city.

Predictably, Yūri goes red and starts stammering, somehow spitting out a story about trouble sleeping and trying something new.

Yuri starts walking again, half hoping he’ll accidentally leave the man behind. Mornings are way too early to deal with people like Yūri. He doesn’t have his head on straight yet; reading between Yūri’s anxious lines is a challenge that’s beyond him until he’s had a few hours on the ice.

They pass the thrift store in silence. Yuri finds his eye drawn to a leopard-face analog clock sitting on display.

“You keep looking at that clock,” Yūri murmurs, almost absently. “Why don’t you buy it?”

“Some of us have priorities, katsudon,” he spits. It’s just a stupid clock. He has a better one at home.

“Yurio,” and here it is, he can feel it coming, _a deep moment._ Yuri hastens his footsteps, almost out of earshot for the rest of the sentence. “Yurio, when was the last time you bought something for yourself?”

Victor’s already at practice, working on his quads and being insufferable just by breathing.

None of this is typical and it grates on his nerves.

Yuri’s on edge all day.

Stupid katsudon.

 

7.

Yuri wakes up that morning with Kirochka’s furry butt on his face.

Not unusual.

He groans and slaps his digital alarm off. Kirochka treats him to indignant meows for having the gall to displace her.

He goes on his run, makes a light breakfast, and heads to the rink. His route takes him by a thrift shop, where a leopard-faced analog clock catches his eye.

Today, he has ice practice in the morning, ballet in the afternoon.

Victor comes to morning practice alone. It’s just about the only time they ever see him without Yūri.

Victor waves as soon as their eyes meet. “Yurio,” He grins cheerfully. “Let’s work on your triple lutz entry today.”

_What?_

Yuri bares his teeth, already smelling a catch. “Why the hell would you want to do that, idiot?”

Victor’s face melts into perfect dismay. “Don’t you want to?” Oh no, he’s pulling out all the stops, bottom lip and watery eyes. “It’s Yūri, isn’t it? He’s here and I’m too old and you’re too good for me now.”

God, no. “Alright, fine, whatever, just stop. Give me all you’ve got and I’ll use it to kick your ass in November.”

“That’s the spirit, Yurio!”

Whatever.

He’s not smiling.  His cheek has a twitch.

And he definitely doesn’t enjoy Victor’s undivided attention for four hours. He’s just humoring the dumbass.

They’re sitting at lunch with Mira and lazy Yūri, who likes to sleep in, and oddly the topic turns to hobbies off the ice.

“Well,” Victor hums, finger on his bottom lip. “I like food, I know Yūri and I have that in common. I like traveling and trying new, local things. I like to read.”

“I’m not too keen on reading,” Yūri admits. “I’ve possibly been conditioned by years of schooling to find reading a chore. I like listening to Victor read.”

His coach’s ears predictably turn pink. The man has no self-control.

“That’s cute,” Mira grins, affectionate and teasing. “I’m the same way, though. I’d rather be outside doing something. I like Crossfit.”

That would explain her freakish strength.

“I’d rather skate or play video games.” Yūri adds with some reluctance, already bracing himself for a judgement.

“I like video games.” Yuri finds himself interjecting. To his absolute surprise.

The three of them are equally shocked. Yuri shakes it off and clicks his tongue impatiently.  “Smash Bros. Tekken. SMITE. Try me and I’ll thrash you puny mortals.”

“Yurotchka,” Mira’s smile positively gleams. “What did your parents ever do to deserve such a violent child?”

His parents were _dead_ , that’s what they did thank you very much and…

“My parents are none of your business, you hen hag.” Yuri abruptly stands to leave. His chair clatters to the floor.

He should kick the table over, just to see the look on their stupid, ignorant faces. 

It’d serve them right.

“ _Yare, yare_ ,” Victor clicks _his_ tongue loud enough for Yuri to hear over his stomping departure. “One step forward, two steps back. Maybe we’ll have better luck with our kitten on the next loop.”

 

8.

Yuri wakes up that morning with Kirochka’s furry butt on his face.

Not unusual.

He groans and slaps his digital alarm off. Kirochka treats him to indignant meows for having the gall to displace her.

He goes on his run, makes a light breakfast, and heads to the rink.

He literally runs into the katsudon halfway there. Yūri comes out of nowhere and they tumble into a heap on the concrete.

“Ah, crap,” he automatically reaches down and helps the older skater to his feet. “You all - ” he catches himself. “Watch where you’re going, four-eyes.”

“Gomen, gomen, Yurio,” Katsudon doesn’t sound sorry at all, the asshole.

“What are you even doing here?” He can’t resist asking. “Your apartment is way closer to the rink.”

Katsudon just shrugs. “I only meant to take a small detour. Then I got distracted by the crows. Their feathers are different here in Russia. In Japan, they’re dark all over, so I’ve never seen ones with white bodies and black wings.”

“Depending on the light,” Yuri surmises, “they play tricks on your eyes.”

“Yes!” Yūri smiles at him, delighted and proud and he feels a furrow appear on his own forehead. The older man tactfully turns his gaze back on the road. “I was following a flock, and here and there, some looked like ghosts.”

They stop at an intersection.

Yūri squints into the distance. “In Japan, we say that a crow that’s alone either hasn’t found its mate or has lost them. Once they have a partner, they’ll stay together, spend their time with the one they love. The flock reminded me of that. They’re very human in that way.”

“Sounds like my mother,” Yuri says impulsively, finding himself lost in that quiet, pensive atmosphere. “Spending all her time after my father died waiting for him to come home from war.”

He refuses to say any more. He doesn’t mention that he barely remembers his father, that his mother had to be hospitalized within a year and never saw him skate.

Grandpa was his parent.

“Yurio,” he’s fully expecting sympathy and he bristles. But Yūri has a lecturing glint in his eye. “Try to finish your exercises early today. I noticed your passé developpé looked a little angled yesterday. If you want, we can work together to soften your knees a bit more.”

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

One morning, Yuri wakes up to the strangest day of his life.

For some godawful reason that Yūri refuses to disclose, the man is at his door at 6:30 in the effing morning, just as he’s about to have breakfast, and steals his food away.

Katsudon trades it for a full breakfast, so Yuri consents to let him live.

He chatters away at Yuri while he cooks and they eat, completely at ease in his apartment and the most outgoing Yuri has ever witnessed.

He’s sober. Yuri tried to check his pupils.

They end up talking about Grandpa and video games, for some bizarre reason. Katsudon’s approach to fighting games – button smashing – is appalling and Yuri is utterly utterly perplexed how the man claims to be proficient at first-person shooters with that kind of n00b attitude.

He has to be _lying_.

At eight, they depart for the rink. (Yakov was going to shout his ear off.)

They take Yuri’s usual route that passes by a thrift shop at the halfway mark. Yūri excuses himself and darts inside. Yuri rolls his eyes and doesn’t bother to wait.

Yakov is conspicuously absent from the ice.

Victor and Mira, on the other hand, look way too casual.

Yuri can’t be too irritated; it did let him slip in without a lecture.

And Yakov’s hair – when he does show up an hour later - was so glamorous in sparkling metallic blue.

Yuri manages to snap a photo before Yakov confiscates all their mobiles.

Victor is really not being subtle at all with his _lack_ of teasing and spontaneous laughter. But it’s also fun to see Yakov turn an unhealthy shade of red the longer Victor stays serious, literally waiting for any excuse to unload on his top athlete.

But of course, that’s the best way to incite Victor the brat to be on his best behavior. And all of Yuri’s attention is on the older skater anyways. Victor’s working with him on a higher difficulty triple lutz entry.

They spend hours getting the walley jump to smoothly connect with the lutz. Once Yuri has that down somewhat, instead of letting him go, Victor challenges him to try with both arms raised.

They end up working overtime, well into Yūri’s coaching session, but katsudon doesn’t seem to mind. He’s busy yelling at them from the sideboards when their jumps are too tight or their edges run shallow.

At lunch, katsudon makes him sit down and one of their bentos. Yuri’s half-wondering if they’ve been replaced by pod people, but the _karaage_ smells delicious and for such a simple dish, he hasn’t really attempted it himself since Hasetsu.

Sitting on the dirty rink floor with the two lovebirds, each bite takes him back to tatami mats and the scent of Mari’s cigarettes.

Yakov finally gives their phones back and Yuri tucks his into his backpack along with his skates.

“Ja ne,” He utters briskly to the lovebirds, who ignore him and tag along to ballet.

Yuri does them both a favor and pretends they don’t exist, except when the katsudon puts on his dance shoes and they spend the afternoon sweating in the name of effortless grace.

It almost feels like having a comrade-in-arms.

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Alright,” Yuri finally puts his foot down at five in the afternoon after being chaperoned by two bored skaters. “I’m going home. _Don’t follow me._ ”

He has nothing planned the rest of the day. He takes the long way home to walk off the strange day, deliberating and unable to put his finger on why absolutely everything strikes him as a little bit out of the ordinary.

It’s almost like he’s forgetting something.

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“SURPRISE!”

“What the hell?” Yuri screams into the empty room.

“We’re in the kitchen, Yurio!” Victor answers cheerfully.

“That’s not what I meant, dumbass.” Adrenaline is transforming his body into a raging typhoon. Yuri shivers with pent-up rage. “Who the hell do you think you are? This is some illegal shit you’ve got the nerve to get into. I should call the police.”  
  


“You gave us your extra key, Yura,” Yūri calmly admonishes. “Hurry up and come closer. I have a present for you.”

Yuri frowns but slinks into a seat at the bar. Katsudon beams at him and whips out a wrapped box. “Happy birthday!”

Birthday?

Taken aback, Yuri checks his mobile.

He has a missed call from Grandpa and a voicemail. It’s March first.

Days of the year were largely unimportant and he’d completely forgotten. He’d woken up this morning with the day’s responsibilities drilled into this mind and body.

He opens the gift.

“Ah,” Yūri scratches his head, abashed. “It’s not much, Yura, but I did think of you.”

It’s an analog clock with a leopard face. Yuri’s seen it before, at the window of a thrift shop en route to the rink.

He’s eyed that clock every day since the start of the season. It’s almost unreal, cradling it in his hands, tangible and imperfect, without glass in between and the morning sunrise to trick his eye.

“We’re making pirozhki.” Victor announces and Yuri reflexively leaps to his feet.

“You mean, _I’m_ making pirozhkis,” he bullies them out of the kitchen. “Stay out there, be quiet while I call grandpa, and down _touch anything_!”

Of course, they’ve somehow managed to get engrossed in a video game while he has his hands tied.

Pains in the asses.

He thanks them by making them cry at Super Smash Bros.

“I’ll get better, Yurotchka,” Victor says darkly. “I’ve only been trying for twelve loops. I’ll Pichu your sorry butt.” He steals another pirozkhi, pretending he hasn’t already eaten six.

“You should probably start by using a different character.”

He furiously engages in button sequences while the katsudon slides his fourth pirozkhi off the plate.

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

He wakes up that morning with his head under the pillow and Kirochka kneading the back of his neck.

Today, he has conditioning and unsupervised ice time.

When he gets to the rink, he’s swept up in a tight hug. “I can’t believe it,” Katsudon looks delirious. Once Yuri gets over his horror, he has to get him to a doctor. The man keeps hugging him and Yuri gets a weird, terrible flashback to his first senior GPF qualifier in Russia. Katsudon’s nattering in his ear, making absolutely no sense and once he gets his arms free, he’ll have a _lot_ to say about it. “I can’t believe that did the trick.”

He escapes Yūri’s grip. Only it was a false escape because Victor’s been waiting in the wings and _his_ hugs are even _tighter_ , and he’s wailing at Yuri in this high-pitched voice he normally reserves for Maccachin or bouts of drama at Yakov and Yūri’s expense, going on _and on_ about how terrible the last few months have been and how he could have lost more hair from the stress, thank goodness it’s only been _one day_.

Finally, Yuri’s _had enough._ He’s _worried._ He’s _bewildered_. And these idiots aren’t. Making. Any. Sense. “Do I look like I care?” He roars.

Victor freezes and Yurio almost. Almost. Feels bad.

Almost.

But Victor just gives him another squeeze and gives him a proud, fond look. “You’re a good man, Yura.”

Any other day, that tone and the secrets peering out between each word, would drive him up the wall.

Somehow, he doesn’t mind it this morning. It’s normal.

“Ne, Yura,” Victor slings an arm around his shoulders as they _finally_ start walking to the ice. “Let’s have game night, tonight, after ballet.”

“You’re on, old man. You think you’ve gotten better overnight? I don’t think so. Prepare to be _flattened_.”

Oh, that’s right. He pauses, and uploads yesterday’s picture of Yakov’s minor hair fiasco.

 

**yuri-plisetsky**

[image]

#midlifecrisis #somethingoldsomethingblue

v-nikiforov #aginggracefully #thankgoditsanewday @y-katsuki

y-feltsman YURI TAKE THIS DOWN OR I’LL LOCK YOUR ACCOUNTS

Fin.

**Author's Note:**

> Feedback is appreciated! I'm nice and you can also come find me on [my tumblr](http://espritneo.tumblr.com).


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